


The Weight of Secrets

by Kataclysm22



Series: MurtaghxOC: The Heart Doesn't Lie [2]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Action, Adventure, Cycle Continuation, Drama, F/M, Fantasy, I mean a LOT, Lots of OCs - Freeform, Lots of time jumps, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kataclysm22/pseuds/Kataclysm22
Summary: (Sequel to The Truth About Lies) A new world, on the brink of greatness...threatened by an enemy in possession of the most dangerous weapon in the world: conviction. As Tabatha attempts to navigate the new landscape of her life, turmoil is brewing in the North. Decisions are weighed and mistakes are made, but Tabatha may find the weight of her secrets to be more than she can bear.As the New Order rises, they must find themselves amidst conflict and the threat of war. The Dragon Riders didn't go extinct... so now they must prove themselves worthy of the title.





	1. Prologue: A Gathering of Shadows

**A/N: Hey guys...I told you I'd be back! I'm so happy to present to you guys the sequel to my Inheritance Cycle epic, "The Truth About Lies". Hopefully, y'all remember the epilogue of that story ;) The prologue is meant to give you a teensy-tiny glimpse of the main conflict for the majority of the story and it takes place far into the future, but the first chapter picks up about two weeks after Chapter 71 of "The Truth About Lies", and there will be quite a few time jumps throughout this tale, which will always be indicated. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to drop me a line.**

**If you guys are new here, I would highly encourage you to go read the first story, as you might be a bit confused about what's going on. Either way, I hope all of you enjoy. Drop me a line and let me know what you think!**

 

* * *

 

Shadows seemed to swirl in the dark corners of the room, taking up residence where they were neither welcome nor invited. He could not be sure if they were real or imagined; day had faded to night many hours ago, yet he could not bring himself to leave this place. That seemed to be happening more, as of late. The longer this incessant conflict waged, the heavier it weighed on the Jarl's mind. His body rested on the throne of his forefathers, though his mind found no sanctuary in the hall where he had reigned for nearly ten years. Tension hunched his shoulders and pained his back, making him even more irritable than normal. Jarl Ingvar was not a patient man by nature, and the current position he found himself in only served to make his temper shorter.

Door hinges squealed in protest as they were made to move, but the Jarl's gaze did not leave the dusty stone floor of his receiving chamber. His chin rested on a curled fist, the golden signet ring he always wore digging into the bearded flesh of his cheek. The door closed, hinges squeaking once more, and the sound of footsteps followed. They were hurried, and the Jarl could only guess at their purpose. He had no concept of the time, so long had his thoughts consumed him this night. But he knew the hour was late; the torches burned low in their sconces, and moonlight pooled on the floor where it poured from an open window. A pair of pointed, dark-leather boots stepped into the circle of light, directly in the Jarl's line of sight.

Slowly, his gaze slid up to look the man in the eye. The dark green tunic he wore marked him as belonging to Clan Ylfring, and the condition of his person suggested to the Jarl that he had traveled a long way to get here. His hair was wet and stringy; crystals of snow still clung to the strands. A fine layer of dirt blanketed his homespun cloak, and his bloodshot eyes looked haggard from exhaustion, ringed by dark circles.

The Jarl stared at him a moment longer before drawing in a deep breath. "Speak," he intoned quietly, his baritone voice cracking slightly from hours of disuse. The hand that had been supporting his head a moment before now rested on his temple, a false show of leisure.

"Jarl Ingvar," the man replied, pounding a clenched fist against his chest and inclining his head, "I bring word from Freyr Reynar. The enemy have pushed back the line by their unholy means. Clans Ylfring, Kjær, and Åasgrin have suffered losses in the hundreds, totaling more than a thousand warriors. Freyr Reynar humbly requests aid from Clan Völsung and the righteous leader of all clans, Your Lordship." At the end of his report, the messenger dropped to one knee and tucked his chin against his chest, his right fist still pressed to his heart in a show of respect as the left braced against the floor.

For a few, agonizing moments of silence, the Jarl ruminated on what the messenger had relayed. It had not shocked him to learn that the enemy had pushed back their lines... What _had_ shocked him, however, was the sheer magnitude of their losses. _Hundreds?_ How was this possible? The warriors of the clans were well-trained and battle-hardened. Most of the men had been raiding the coasts for a majority of their lives, and the young men had been reared with the sole purpose of battle in mind. The Jarl had seen to that, as his father and grandfather had...

Finally, he broke his silence. "How many are they?" he asked, voice deceptively calm. The messenger's hesitation was palpable. It did not escape the Jarl's notice how the man's supporting arm trembled slightly. When he did finally answer, his voice was quiet and meek.

"The living number twenty, Your Lordship."

It felt like a flash of lightning coursed through his veins, and the Jarl felt his eyes widen ever so slightly. If the messenger had braved a look at the Jarl's face, he would have paled at the rage in his eyes. It took a few steady breaths before Jarl Ingvar found his composure once again, and even more before he could speak without wanting to roar.

"And... the dead?" he asked lightly, as though he was questioning the man on the weather.

The Jarl could hear as he swallowed a lump in his throat before answering. "Five-thousand... Your Lordship..."

This time, he could not control his ire. A fist the size of a blacksmith's hammer slammed against the arm of his throne, causing the wood to groan and split under the force of it. The messenger flinched, but to his credit, he did not fall out of his obeisance. "How did this happen!" Ingvar bellowed, raising up so that he was standing now. His hands were shaking from the force of how hard he clenched them. "I gave Reynar explicit instructions: to ambush them in the night before they had a chance to—"

"They knew we were coming, My Lord!" the messenger shouted desperately, mustering his courage. "When we arrived, they had already raised their armies. Someone told them we were coming, Jarl."

The rage churning within the Jarl's chest suddenly stilled, and he felt his heart slow to its regular pace. The man's words settled over him, leaving a blanket of silence in their wake. His receiving chamber was quiet as a tomb, and nearly as cold as one. Jarl Ingvar shifted his gaze to the open window, his mind turning. His warriors incapable of defeating an inferior enemy, that was something he could not abide. But a traitor... now that was a situation he could handle.

"Return to your Freyr," he said gravely, his thoughts suddenly running wild in a hundred different directions. "Tell him reinforcements will arrive within the week."

The messenger nodded quickly and shot to his feet, turning back towards the door from whence he came. "And tell him—" The Jarl paused until the messenger turned back to him, eyes wary. "Tell him to take stock of his house," Ingvar growled. "Give Freya Anja and Freya Vilde this message as well. When I discover the identity of this traitor, they will rue the day they were ever born into a clan."


	2. Summer Blossoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated in the prologue A/N, this chapter picks up two weeks after chapter 71 of "The Truth About Lies". Enjoy!

Summer was well underway by the time I realized my condition. I had been in Carvahall for close to a fortnight, aiding the villagers in their rebuilding efforts as best I could. All things considered, we had made incredible progress in such a short amount of time. Already, brick and stone foundations had been laid for the homes needing to be rebuilt first, and the plans had been made for the new buildings that would take the place of the old ones. The tavern and the butcher and the tannery had all been planned and prepared for. My uncle was currently redesigning his forge, better than before. And the other shops and outbuildings would soon be ready for their foundations to be laid as well. By the time all was said and done, Carvahall would be twice the size that it had been, and well-fortified against any potential attacks.

On the morning of my fourteenth day in Carvahall, the summer sun was bearing down on me, and I was assisting my uncle and cousins with raising the framework for their home. My abilities were always helpful in this regard, but that morning, they seemed to be sapping my strength more than usual. And as it always was, it didn't escape Amera's notice.

_You are unwell this morning,_ she said seriously, her voice sounding faint from the distance that separated us. She was deep in the Spine at the moment, carrying logs strapped to her back that would need to be milled for lumber.

_No more than I have been since Eragon left,_ I called back to her, trying to maintain my focus on the stones I was currently stacking for the chimney, using my magic to levitate a few at a time. As my concentration wavered, the stones began wobbling in mid-air, threatening to drop at any moment. _I'll be fine,_ I continued, _cease your worrying._

_It's my lot in life to worry about you, Tabatha. So please, indulge me… Rest a bit. You have not stopped hardly to take a breath since Thorn and Murtagh re—_

_I do not need to rest,_ I cut in sharply, trying to keep the harshness I felt out of my voice. _I need to distract myself so that I do not become mired down in sadness. I lost the man that I love and my best friend in the entire world within two months of each other… There is too much on my mind; throwing myself into this work allows me to forget for a little while._

I could feel the snort as she let it out, likely scaring a few of the farmers that were accompanying her. _I do not want to forget,_ she replied sadly. _The memories are all we have now._

A wave of sadness washed over me, nearly knocking me off my feet. Taking a deep breath, I placed the levitating stones on the ever-growing pile and then stepped back from the construction site. My uncle and cousins continued on in their work, completely unawares. On shaky legs, I found a newly-hewn piece of lumber and sat down upon it, holding my pounding head in my hands. Without warning, a cascade of tears flowed down my cheeks, my breath hiccuping in my chest. It seemed the tears came on quicker now since our lives had been upended.

_I do not want to forget either, Amera,_ I whispered, attempting to draw in a deep breath and finding it harder than I'd thought. _But sometimes… sometimes the pain is too much to bear._

An incredible feeling of warmth wrapped itself around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. _I know, little one,_ she soothed. It was almost as though I could feel her wing encircling me. _The burden is ours to share._ _Your pain is my own, as mine is yours. We must rely on each other during these trials, or we will never make it._

_Surrounded by our friends and family… and it feels as if we are utterly alone…_ A sob escaped my throat, unbidden and completely unyielding.

_We are not alone,_ Amera replied, stronger now. _Remember what Eragon told you: neither distance nor the passage of time can truly separate us. Our pact is as old as the land itself, and that is not something easily broken._

_Then why does it feel like my heart has been shattered?_ Amera knew I was not angry with her, only with our current situation. I did not mean to be harsh with her, but I was finding it increasingly difficult as of late to rein in my emotions. It felt like my nerves were constantly on edge, and my mind swung between anger and sadness and every feeling in between on a never-ending pendulum.

Amera was quiet for a little while, but when she did finally speak, her voice sounded stronger and clearer than before. They must have been getting closer to the village. _I think I know what we need, little one,_ she said, a hint of hopefulness in her voice.

_And what is that?_

_The clarity and peace that only comes with a night flight,_ she exclaimed, waves of excitement rolling off of her.

_A night flight, you say?_ I asked, pondering the thought. _Yes… I suppose it has been a while since we've taken one of those._

_It's settled then,_ she replied happily, _we shall take to the skies under a blanket of stars, only the light of the full moon to guide our way._

A smile made its way to my face before realization hit me and the world seemed to still. A cold pit suddenly formed in my stomach, and I could feel my blood pounding in my veins like a raging river. My mind began racing, and my fingers trembled where they sat tangled in my hair. _Amera…_ I said slowly. _Did you just say that tonight is a full moon?_

I could feel her hum of response through our bond. _Yes, little one. I have been counting the days. There is nothing quite like soaring through the skies when the moon is at its fullest._

If I hadn't already been sitting, I'm sure I would have fallen to my knees at that moment. Amera felt my devastation, and her joy immediately soured into concern. _What is it?_ she asked quickly. _Tabatha, what's happened?_

_I need to see Katrina,_ I said breathlessly, somehow finding the strength to get to my feet. _I will find you later._ I conveyed to her that everything would be fine, and then began my trek across the village green.

Katrina would be overseeing the other women, helping and instructing in the weaving and sewing of fabrics. When the Ra'zac had burned the village to the ground, the history and heirlooms of her people had been lost. Instead of languishing in what could not be replaced, Katrina had taken it upon herself to rally the women to begin making new heirlooms for the future. Normally, they congregated near Gertrude's newly-built hut, and today was no exception.

A whole gaggle of them were sitting on the ground outside the small building, the very first to be completed. Some of them worked in tandem on a gigantic quilt, while others focused on their own projects. Yet others of them, who were less-inclined to feminine arts, worked at preparing the food for that night's supper. Since no one—besides Gertrude, of course—had their own home yet, the entire village supped together at the end of the day. As I passed them by, they each inclined their heads in my direction.

It was easy enough to locate Katrina by her babe's incessant squalling. The two of them were inside with Gertrude, helping her sort through an arrangement of herbs and plants. As I entered the small space, they both looked over at me, smiles upon their faces.

"Tabatha," Katrina chimed cheerfully, bouncing Ismira lightly where she was nestled in a sling across her chest. Eyes wide and hands shaking, I stared at her for a moment, looking between her and the baby. No matter how I tried, my voice would not respond to my wishes. As the silence stretched, Katrina's smile melted into a frown.

"What's the matter, child?" Gertrude quipped from her worktable, deftly separating sprigs of thyme and rosemary. "Can't you speak?"

"I, uh—" I finally stammered out, licking my dry lips. "Katrina, I need to talk to you."

She looked back over her shoulder at Gertrude, whose attention was suddenly fixated on me. Katrina turned back to me, and said, "Is everything alright, Tabatha? Has something happened?"

"I don't… I don't know… I don't feel well," I mumbled, my hands fumbling together in front of my stomach.

"Then I should think you'd want to speak to _me_ ," Gertrude rasped, struggling out of her seat on arthritic knees and trodding over to me. "As the town healer, it's my business to know how everyone's feeling, after all." She placed a gnarled hand on my upper arm and gently guided me to the stool she'd just been sitting on. Feeling numb inside, I sat down.

"What doesn't feel well, Tabby?" Katrina asked, leaning over me. Blessedly, the child had fallen asleep and ceased its wailing.

Gertrude placed her leather-soft hand on my forehead, eyes narrowed and mumbling something to herself. "Mm, yes, you do feel a bit warm," she uttered. "Is it your belly, girl? You may have eaten something rotten."

"No," I mumbled, "I haven't had much of an appetite for weeks now. I… it's my heart that doesn't feel good. I'm having terrible mood swings… I'm exhausted… and I'm sore all over." My hands were trembling in earnest now, gripped there in my lap. I only wanted her to tell me what I already suspected to be true, but I couldn't bring myself to come right out and say it. Paralyzing fear had gripped me, and I couldn't break free.

Katrina was still worrying over me, stroking my hair out of my face and placing a cool compress on the back of my neck. But Gertrude tilted her head and fixed me with a knowing look, causing my heart to race. She leaned against the side of her worktable and gripped my knee gently.

"Tabatha," she said calmly, causing Katrina to still in her frenzy. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. Then she uttered the question I'd been fervently asking myself only a few minutes ago. "When was the last time you had your moon's blood?" Katrina dropped the wooden bowl of water she'd been holding and cast her gaze quickly between Gertrude and myself.

"It…" I hesitated, wracking my brain to try and remember. With everything that had happened over the last few months, I hadn't really been paying that much attention. As quickly as I could, I replayed every event that had occurred recently, until I could remember when it had been. "It was just after the Aroughs rebellion," I said meekly, tears brimming in my eyes.

Katrina gripped my shoulder, her eyes wide. "Tabatha," she breathed, "that was two months ago." Whatever words I might have said became stuck in my throat, lodged there by the sob threatening to escape. I looked desperately between her and Gertrude, searching for some shred of guidance. But I only found pity in their eyes.

Finally, I found my voice. "W-what... what do I do?" I asked tremulously, trying to mask the desperation in my voice. I felt like a cat trapped in a corner, praying for any means of escape.

The two women looked at each other and then back at me, hesitation clear as day on their faces. Gertrude was the first to speak. "You are too far along for herbs to be of any use, child," she said softly. In this moment, I really did feel like a child, for I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Herbs?" I questioned, feeling foolish and embarrassed... more so than I already did.

"To expel an unwanted baby," she explained calmly. Involuntarily, I flinched away from her.

"I didn't... that's not what _—_ "

"Think of what this means, Tabatha," Katrina said softly, her voice full of kindness. "You are an unmarried woman, and a Rider besides. The responsibilities you will carry now... I cannot imagine what it would take to maintain them and to raise a child at the same time."

"Do you know who the father is?" Gertrude cut in. I gazed at her as I bit down on my lip to try and stop its trembling...and nodded weakly, remembering the last time I had seen him. "And is he in a position to salvage your honor?" At that, I shook my head, feeling a few more tears escape.

"He is far away from this place," I whispered, clutching my hands against my chest. "And I do not know when... or if he will ever return." A few beats of silence... and then I felt a tension fill the room.

"It's the Red Rider, isn't it?" Katrina asked quietly, her tone colored by an emotion I couldn't place. But as I looked in her eyes, I saw a definite hardness there. "Tabatha, how could you let this happen? Did your aunt never teach you about precautions?"

"I never intended this," I said, my voice growing a little stronger under the shadow of her scrutiny. "It was... it was an accident." _Or fate..._ I thought to myself. "I didn't know if I would ever see him again... and I... I love him..." Slowly, I stood from the stool and placed a hand on my lower abdomen, looking down in wonder.

"Is your intention to keep this child then?" Gertrude asked tenderly.

In truth, I hadn't yet processed what was happening. How could I have been so stupid? And how did this escape my notice for so long? My grief at losing both Murtagh and Eragon had made me blind to everything, it seemed. Murtagh and Thorn had returned to the North, and I had no idea if we would ever see them again... Yet I had been granted this... _gift._ Be it the goddess or some other streak of fate, I had been given a precious part of him to hold on to... His child...

How could I even think of ending this? It was all I had left of the man I loved. A pinprick of light in a cloud of shadow. The weight of acceptance settled over me, and I felt stronger now than I had before. Finally, I looked back up at Gertrude and Katrina...and nodded.

Gertrude released a pent up breath and turned back to her worktable, gathering a sprig of a serrated-looking plant. She handed it over to me, along with a small, green pouch. "Make a tea out of those leaves, and eat those buds if you ever feel nauseous," she instructed. Then she went back to the worktable and picked up a cleaver, chopping up a yellow root and throwing the pieces into another pouch. When she was finished, she handed over that pouch as well. "Ground those roots into a paste and eat it with some bread every day, understand? If your calculations are correct, I'd put you due in the winter, after Yule at least. You will need plenty of rest and fresh air, so make sure you don't overextend yourself. Am I clear?"

I nodded slowly and tucked the items against my chest. It still felt as though I was floundering in a dark sea, but this small thread would be enough to keep me afloat for now. I would go to my aunt for advice as well, but the thought of having to tell the queen terrified me. What would she think? How would she react to the son of Morzan and the daughter of Galbatorix conceiving a child? If I were in her position... I'm not sure what I would do.

"Thank you," I said quietly, truly meaning it. I didn't feel as scared as I had before, though there was still an element of uncertainty. Katrina tilted her head and gave me a sympathetic look; she had softened a little, and I thought it might have been more for my own sake than anything else.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you, Tabatha. If you need anything from me or Roran, please let me know." She placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I will," I assured her. "I must go see my aunt, but I fear I may not be able to stay here much longer. I need to inform the queen... and my mother. There is... there is much I have to consider." My thoughts were racing faster than I could keep up, and I was suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to lie down in a cool, dark place. I said my goodbyes and then left the small hut, reaching out with my mind to find Amera.

_Where are you?_ I asked desperately, picking up my pace as I approached the village green.

_Where I always am,_ she said softly. _By your side._ A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to see her great, violet form swooping overhead. The breeze powered by her wings whipped my hair about my head, and I broke into a run as she glided just above the ground. Mustering all my strength, I leapt up to grab hold of one of her neck spikes, swinging myself into her saddle. When she felt that I was secure, Amera beat her wings rapidly to regain altitude.

The sky was clear, and up above the world, the air was cooler. I sent Amera a picture of where I wanted to go, swallowing a lungful of air to try and keep the tears at bay. Sunlight warmed my back, and the sweet smell of summer filled my senses. For a moment, I almost believed I could forget about everything up here... But I had accepted my lot, now I had to learn to handle it.

Amera saved her questions until we landed a short time later, her claws scraping against the stone of the outpost atop the mountain. Utgard had always fascinated me, though we'd not yet had the opportunity to come here. Eragon had told me the tale of Ristvak'baen; how my father struck down Vrael and claimed his sword atop the mountain, cementing what he thought to be his final victory. How fitting then, that I stood here now, the antithesis to his legacy.

_Did you know, Amera?_ I asked a brief silence, standing close to the edge of the stone outcropping and looking out over the vast plains. During the flight here, I'd thought over all that had happened to me since... since I saw Murtagh last. And dragons were perceptive creatures... it only made sense.

She let out a slight groan as she sat on her haunches, flicking her tail around in front of her like a cat. _I had my suspicions,_ she muttered, _but I am still unsure of how these things happen with you two-legs. I did not want to say anything, for the fear that I might be wrong. It is... exciting, yes?_

_I suppose you could say that,_ I replied with a sigh. _Certainly unexpected, if nothing else... But it feels... I don't rightly know, but it feels as if this was meant to be. I have lost him to the darkness in his own mind, yet I have gained a part of him I thought never to see._ Though we'd never discussed it expressly—there had been no cause, nor any opportunity—I didn't believe Murtagh was keen on having any children, his own childhood having been a living nightmare.

_A miracle,_ Amera remarked wistfully. _Perhaps even a blessing._

_I cannot know that yet,_ I said, absently placing a hand on my stomach. It seemed the natural thing to do, knowing what now quickened inside me. _Only time will tell, and I will need your strength on this journey. My life will never be the same after this._

_You mean_ our _lives,_ she quipped with a snap of her teeth. _Partner-of-my-heart-and-mind... it is not just a saying, you know._

_I know._ I smiled at her and placed a hand upon her scaly cheek. _I am sorry that I get wrapped in my own head sometimes. After living so long with only my own thoughts for company, it is difficult to share the space sometimes._

_I do not take up too much room,_ she chuckled, both in her mind and aloud. The rocky ground beneath us shook with her rumbling.

My gaze slid back over the horizon, taking in every inch of what I could see. The last time I had passed this mountain after leaving Carvahall, I had been just a girl, blissfully ignorant of the darkness in the world. Now I had seen true darkness; seen it snuffed out by my own hand. Whatever trials awaited me now, I knew I was strong enough to meet them head-on, with Amera by my side.


End file.
